I'll be Home for Christmas
by kashkow
Summary: Am posting old stories. As You can tell this is a holiday outing. Just a little something. Mostly shmoop.


I'll Be Home For Christmas

By Ellen H.

Author's Note(Pardon the length): In way of explanation, Edith, Nelson's sister, disappeared from the series for the most part after "Traitor". We had little information on her in the cannon, but much has been made of her in the fanficiton. In my world, where I am the queen, she met an unfortunate end, an end that was brought about by those attempting to control Nelson. I have never written my version of her demise, but this story takes place about two months later. The story is kind of dark, and ever so slightly mushy. Just a warning.

Boston-MA, December 23

After writing the same sentence twice in a row, Harriman Nelson pushed back from his desk and threw his pen down in disgust. "Damn it" he thought as he leaned back, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was no closer to having this paper done than he had been four days ago. Not that he HAD to finish it. It wasn't as if the Society was anxious to have it before the end of the year. IN fact they would be happy to have it before the end of January. But he had flown three thousand miles to be alone so that he could get it done. If he allowed himself to tell the truth, it had been an excuse he had used to hold his friends at arm's length, and it had been effective.

Jamison had appeared shortly after lunch with a small bottle of very good brandy, and a thermos of equally good coffee. Nelson had allowed the doctor to pour him a drink, and had sat back from his desk to sip at the fragrant brew, feeling the warming tendrils of the coffee and the spirit. They had sat in silence for several minutes, but then Jamieson had made a tactical error.

If he had remained silent, Nelson might have allowed him to stay longer, might have even started a conversation on his own, but the doctor had spoken first. He had mentioned, with studied casualness, that his father had died three days before Christmas. Nelson had felt the warmth fading from his body, forming a pit of ice in his stomach. He had listened silently as Jamieson had talked about the difficulties that his family had faced that first holiday without him. The doctor had been startled as Nelson had practically jumped to his feet and stormed toward the door, flinging it open and gesturing out with a dramatic fling of his arm.

"I'll thank you to take your bottle of 'Christmas spirit' and your touching stories of Christmases past and leave me alone, Doctor. Unlike you, apparently, I have important things to see to. I am trying to complete this paper, and I cannot do it if I am continually being disturbed. Good day." He had snapped. Jamieson had stared at him thoughtfully for a moment then stood and collected his things. Nelson had ignored the look that Jamieson threw him as he went out the door, and closed it behind him with a satisfying bang He then returned to his desk, and his mood.

Shaking his head to disperse the unbidden memory, he glanced at the mantle clock that sat over the fireplace that took up most of one wall of his study at his family home in Boston. It was just after six in the evening. He shoved back his chair and rose to his feet, stretching out the stiffness that had settled into his bones as he sat writing for the last several hours. He moved to stand in front of the large bay window.

His study, being at the front of the large brownstone building that had been his parent's home, overlooked the street, and even at this hour it was busy. Snow had been falling since he had arrived two days previously but it hadn't stopped the decorators from putting up Christmas decorations. Every light post had been wrapped like a giant candy cane, every tree along the street had been strung with lights, and almost every house had been decorated with lights; every house that is except his own. The staff, most of who were on call, had not known he was coming, and so had not taken the time to decorate the house.

As he stood there, blindly watching the activity on the streets, he let his mind drift to when he was a boy. He had been seven, and Edith was not yet born. It had been only himself and his parents here at the house, except for the live-in staff, most of the year. But that year, the whole of the extended Nelson family had descended upon them. That year, if he recalled correctly, there had been a total of thirty-five aunts, uncles, cousins, and in-laws. Harriman had been the youngest by some years.

He still remembered how the house had looked then, with boughs of evergreen and holly lining each staircase banister. Huge red velvet bows were everywhere and mistletoe hung from many a doorway. Candles had shown in every window. The huge tree, freshly cut on the family's property in Maine, had stood in the living room decorated from the lowest bough to the shining star on the top. It was the first year he had ever seen the house decorated in such a way. Usually there had been a small, simple tree, and a few decorations. Since he could remember they had always traveled to other family member's homes for their formal Christmas festivities. But that year had been his parent's turn to host the family. The house had rung with voices for almost two weeks before Christmas. The staff had been run ragged, but everyone had enjoyed the holiday. Unbidden, a more recent memory intruded into his mind.

He had moved down to his lab to escape the ringing phone during Angie's lunchtime. He had been writing steadily, though not particularly incisively, he felt. He had been about to trash the last three pages when the door had opened without any knock, and he had been surprised to see a group of children entering in single file. Without any words they had lined up in two ranks in front of him, and had burst into song. One Christmas carol after another had come forth, as Nelson sat with his pen in hand, frozen in place. Finally after the forth song Nelson seized a moment of silence to thank them for their songs, and had suggested that the employees in the cafeteria would no doubt love to hear them as well. After being shyly informed of their purpose, he had given them a generous check toward their choir trip to Disneyland, and had ushered them out of the room. A glance into the hallway had showed a flushed Angie avoiding his eyes. He had snapped a request to be left alone, and with another slam had retreated back to his lab.

He shook his head again, and brought his memories back to his family. By the time Edith had been born, and it was once again time for his parents to host the festivities, there had been only fifteen of the family left to make the pilgrimage to Boston. The festivities had been slightly more subdued, but he had some fond memories of an infant Edith, tearing into her presents and laughing, festooned with the ribbons, and fascinated with the paper more than the presents themselves. By the time the lot had fallen to the Boston branch of the family once more, there had been only Harriman and Edith, then just turning thirteen, their parents having died two years previously, and three elderly second cousins from Ireland, who had made the trip grudgingly. They had arrived the day before Christmas and left the day after.

That had been the last time that it had been anyone but Harriman and Edith. In the years following they had spent many a Christmas apart as Nelson's duties often had him at sea during the holidays, and Edith spent the time with the families of her friends from the Swiss boarding school she attended. The few that they had managed to spend together had passed quickly and quietly, usually consisting of quiet dinners there in Boston, with Nelson striving to make conversation with a young girl with whom he had little, if anything, in common, other than parentage. But now Christmas was coming once again, and this year Edith was gone. Murdered because of his work. Leaving him with a burning guilt that flayed his soul. He would give anything to have one more dinner with her, to listen to her chatter about her charities, to watch her open her presents on Christmas morning with a restrained but childlike joy. But that wasn't going to happen, ever again. As he stood there contemplating the street and the falling snow, he suddenly felt very alone.

"That's what you wanted wasn't it?" A voice said in the back of his mind, "To be alone to wallow in the guilt. Don't complain when you get what you wanted."Another memory arose to play out in his mind.

_Nelson hung up the phone on the fifth call he had taken that afternoon and sat back, glancing out the window at the rain that had been pouring down for days. It suited his mood. His wondering eye fell on the calendar, and the red numbers of the 25__th__ showed only four days away. He was not looking forward to the day, had not looked forward to the month. Every call had been from friends or collegues wishing him Merry Christmas and asking about his plans. After the first call he had learned to be vague about what he had planned. No one seemed to understand. What was Christmas without family? Glancing around his office, he felt a sudden need to be somewhere else. Felt a sudden need to be…home. He pushed the intercom button._

"_Angie, have them get FS1 ready to launch. I'll be leaving for Boston in an hour. It shouldn't take longer than that to pack. Then call the house and let them know I'll be there in the early morning."_

"_But…" Angie had started. "Why Boston, sir? Why now?"_

"_It seems the only way that I am going to get anything done is to get out of here, and away from the phones and…other disturbances."_

"_But Christmas is…"_

"I am well aware when Christmas is. Now could you please notify them that I want to leave within the hour?" He had cut off the intercom and packing his papers in his briefcase had left the office five minutes later without saying another word to anyone.

He turned angrily away from the window, starting back toward the desk, but then stopped. That hadn't worked earlier, and it hadn't gained appeal in the last several minutes. He went instead to out into the main hall. His footsteps echoing in the empty house, he went first to the living room, and then through to the morning room, where he had breakfasted the last two days, eschewing the emptiness of the formal dining room with it's huge table. Finding little of interest there, he pushed through the door leading to the kitchen, and found Gretchen, the cook, and Fitzwilliam, the butler/handyman, peeling potatoes and watching a cooking show on TV. As he entered Fitzwilliam dropped the potato he was peeling and leapt to his feet, reaching to turn off the TV.

"I am very sorry sir. Did you ring?" he asked.

"No, no. Go back to what you were doing. I…" Suddenly he wasn't sure exactly what it was he had thought he was doing coming back here. Maybe it was because this was the only room in the house that didn't echo with the ghosts of Christmases past, and the emptiness he had imposed on himself. He looked from one curious face to the other. A question rose in his mind. "I was wondering…I know that you were not expecting me, and it suddenly occurred to me that you may have had plans of your own. May I ask what your plans were for Christmas?" The two exchanged looks, and Nelson could almost hear the polite phrases being constructed. Before Fitzwilliam could speak, he held up a hand. "I really want to know the truth."

"I was going to my mother's house, down in Cambridge. I planned to leave tomorrow. Gretchen was going to go along with me. She…her family is in Germany, and she has no one here in the states." Fitzwilliam admitted. "It really doesn't matter, sir. My mother has the rest of the family there with her, and we will be just as happy here." He hastened to add as Nelson nodded solemnly. Now along with the guilt about Edith, he had a new guilt. His hasty decision had affected more than just himself. It seemed that a certain person's accusation about selfishness had not been far off the mark. He pulled in a lungful of air and looked from one to the other.

"I would appreciate it if you would go ahead with your plans." He held up a hand again as they started to protest. "No, I mean it. I do not want to keep you from your family. I am more than able to fend for myself. I have been doing it for a number of years." There were several arguments raised, each turned aside by Nelson, and in the end it was decided the couple would leave in the morning after breakfast. After waving off their thanks, Nelson retreated back to his study, and sat down in the large leather chair in front of the fire. He sat staring at the flames and once again a recent memory pushed itself forward.

_He had been hastily packing clothes into his bag when heard the knock at the front door. He paused, knowing who it had to be, even before he went to the door. Evidently those scheming against him had turned to what they no doubt felt was the last resort. They had sent in Crane._

_Lee Crane had been in Washington D.C. until that morning, working on getting a new contract with the USGS for the next year's research. Crane had returned on the red eye flight that morning, and had gone home to catch a few hours sleep. Through the usual scuttlebutt Nelson knew Crane had come into the office, checked_ _his inbox and had retreated to the Seaview to check out the progress of several projects onboard. Most of the crew where on liberty for the holiday, including the XO and COB, and the captain no doubt wanted to be sure the work was being done up to standard. It had surprised Nelson that Crane hadn't requested an appointment, and even though he had been prepared to refuse the request, he had been somewhat put out by the omission. Even with his busy schedule however, Nelson knew that by this time the captain would have gotten an earful about the last several days, and the moods of a certain admiral. _

_Hours later when he was in the air, Nelson reflected that he should not have opened the door. Even though Crane had a key he would never have entered without invitation. It might have been better all around if he had simply gone away. But then, upon further reflection he thought it might have been worse. In any event, Nelson had opened the door. _

_Crane had not entered as he usually would, instead he waited on the step until Nelson motioned him in. He had paused in the foyer then, shaking the rain from his coat, his expression closed. Nelson frowned on him, intentionally not inviting him into the living room as he normally would with a guest in his home. Not that he usually had to ask with Crane, they had passed that level of formality some time before. He had placed his hands on his hips and glared._

"_Well, what is it?" he asked belligerently. He saw something flash in Crane's eyes, something that he would have said was anger, but it was quickly gone, replaced by the formal mask that Crane wore with strangers. When the younger man spoke it was in the cool, unemotional tones of a report._

"_I understand that you are leaving for the East coast. Here are the contracts from the USGS. I've already sent copies down to finance and left a copy of the schedule for Chip. We'll start working them into the cruise schedule on Wednesday when he gets back. I thought you might want to look it over and see if there is anything that you wanted to do at a particular time for your own research purposes. If you let me know by Tuesday that will give us something to work with." Nelson listened to the brief speech, and had allowed his mood to color his response._

"_Well I am glad to know that MY wishes are going to be considered on MY boat." He growled peevishly. Crane raised an eyebrow. _

"_I wasn't aware that your wishes were not taken into consideration on ANY project concerning the Seaview or the Institute." He said. Nelson had snorted. _

"_Let's start with my request to be left ALONE! That wish seems to have been soundly ignored by all. I specifically told Jamieson __**and**__ Angie that I do not want to be disturbed, yet here you are." The second eyebrow rose to the same level as the first. _

"_I haven't spoken with Jaime today. He left for San Diego sometime this afternoon. As for Angie, I never had a chance to speak with her before she went home. I was in the control room when your request for FS1 came through, and I thought you might want to work on this over the holiday, so I brought you the file on my way home. I apologize if I have disturbed you uneccessarily." The last bit went from cold to freezing. Nelson, ignoring the warning signs, hurumphed._

"_Don't play dumb with me captain, I am not in the mood." He growled. Crane had nodded, face expressionless. _

"_So I see. Am I to also assume that you are not in the mood for a personal question?" Nelson waived the seeming politeness aside, sure that he knew what he question would be._

"_What about, my mood or about why I am going to Boston? I fail to see why it is anyone's business but my own. And don't pretend to that you aren't the latest in the effort to 'cheer me up'. I am not buying it. I neither need nor want to be cheered. Now, since you have turned in your file, you are dismissed." _

"_Actually I did have another reason for coming here, not the one that you think, and not that it really matters if you are determined to go to Boston for the holiday." Crane's golden eyes searched his own, and evidently found the answer there. The anger flashed again, and Crane continued._

"_As you know the anchor watch will be here through the holiday, as will the security personnel. Since Cookie is scheduled on watch he has offered to cook for everyone as long as he gets some help in the galley throughout the day. He was trying to get a head count, and he wanted to know if you would be joining us for dinner." Nelson didn't fail to notice Crane's use of the word "us". He hadn't given much thought to the younger man's plans for Christmas, and wasn't given any time to do so then as Crane continued once more. "As I said, the question is moot, you've made your choice about where and how you want to spend Christmas." With that he turned and started for the door. He had the door opened slightly before he turned and looked back at Nelson. Rather than the spark of anger there was a deep sadness on the younger man's eyes._

"_You know Harry, I never thought of you as being selfish, but you seem to be making a particular effort lately. Everyone has cut you a lot of slack, because they understand what you are going through, even though you seem to think that you are the only person who has ever lost someone they love. Well, I would like to remind you, that you are not the only one that misses her. She was my friend, and I loved her. If you needed to talk to someone I would have listened. Hell, half the staff would have listened, if you would have just allowed them to. But you would rather just brood over it, cutting us all off. You were right to some degree, though, I did hear about what you've been doing, how you've been rude to the staff, the crew. People who only wanted to help you. How do you think Edith would have reacted if she knew that you were doing that? She would have torn you up one side and down another." He gave a small smile as if contemplating the scene, then he pulled the door open and stepped into the night, turning one last time to look at Nelson._

"_Think about it Harry. Do you really believe that the enduring feeling that she would want you to have for her is guilt? Doesn't she deserve more from you than that?" The door had closed softly then, leaving him alone. _

So he had fled to Boston even though the idea had lost much of its appeal, and now here he sat, even more alone than he had been there in Santa Barbara. In taking himself away from the Institute, away from his collegues, away from the Seaview, away from Lee, he had taken himself away from the only sort of family that he had left. He had traded the present for the memories of the past. Staring into the fire he finally let his mind drift to the subject he had been avoiding for the last two months.

Logically he knew that Edith would never blame him for the circumstances of her death. The ones to blame had been punished, and Edith had been laid to rest in the family plot with her ancestors, but Nelson had not been able to let it go. He had at first buried himself in his work, ignoring the sorrow and loss, absently acknowledging the messages of sympathy. Then as it drew closer and closer to the holidays it seemed that those around him had made it their purpose to cheer him up and take his mind off it. Of course that had only served to bring it more closely to his attention, and so here he was, two days before Christmas wallowing in it.

"_Do you really think that the enduring feeling that she would want you to have for her is guilt? Doesn't she deserve more from you than that?" _The questions echoed through his mind. Was he doing Edith a disservice? As far apart as they had been in age and life experience, he had still loved his sister deeply; still did love her. Yes, Lee had been right, about everything.

He _had_ been selfish. He had wallowed in his guilt, and had used his well-known temper to drive everyone away. Upon review, those people who had tried to reach out to him had not discounted his grief. They had simply sought to ease it the best ways they knew how. They had not wanted him to forget Edith, but just to remember her with the affection that she deserved. Upon reflection he had been insufferably rude to a lot of people out of no more than a self-indulgent fit of guilt.

As he thought about the months since Edith's death, he suddenly realized that he had not once sat and talked to Lee Crane about anything that wasn't directly related to the Seaview or the Institute, and those few times that they had met had been instigated by Crane. He had no idea what had been going on in the younger man's life. How _he_ had dealt with the death of a woman who had been more than a friend. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was sure that there had been several days, right after the funeral, during which Lee had been gone. Where had he been? Not on another ONI mission, he was sure of that.

Edith and Crane had had a complicated relationship. There had been an attraction between them at first, after all, they were both young, attractive, and unattached, but once Edith had come to realize that Crane was too much like Nelson-dedicated to the sea and his boat-the relationship had changed and become something more resembling that of siblings. How had Nelson managed to discount the grief that the younger man must have been working through?

And what about the other people who's lives had been impacted by Edith's passing? She had been active in so many charities, had raised funds for so many good causes. He knew that most of Edith's estate had been distributed to those causes, but while there was a large amount of money involved, he knew that there was nothing that could substitute for the personal effort that his sister had out forth. He had no doubt that she would be deeply missed.

As if thinking of how her passing would affect others had loosened a dam inside him, he felt tears rise in his eyes, blurring the fire. At first he held back the sobs that rose in his chest, but then he gave in, and let them come out. The grief he had held at bay with the guilt washed over him in waves, and when he was finally able to bring himself together again he slumped back in the chair, exhausted. Oddly, he felt both worse and better at the same time.

Physically, he felt as if he had been scourged on the inside, that he had nothing left but raw nerve endings. But his soul, that burning place that had tormented him since he had first found out about Edith, felt as if it had been soothed. It was a curiously satisfying feeling. He took in a lungful of air and reached to wipe at the tears that remained on his cheeks. He pulled himself upright, looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was now after seven. As he had sat at the fire the long winter night had deepened and a glance at the window showed that the gentle snowfall had increased to a blizzard. Damn it, even the FS1 couldn't fly in that.

He heard someone clearing his throat behind him, and turned, expecting to see Fitzwilliam, announcing dinner. Instead Lee Crane stood in the doorway, dressed in a standard issue parka and boots, holding a knitted cap in his gloved hands. Fitzwilliam was hovering behind him. Nelson rose to his feet.

"Lee! Where on earth did you come from?" he asked. His voice, roughened by his emotions came out gruffer than he meant it to. He saw it impact Crane, and while there was no change in his face, Nelson saw the hands tighten on the woolen hat, and the younger man started to turn around. Nelson stepped forward and lifted a hand. "Wait! Lee, please…please stay." Crane stopped, turning slightly, obviously pondering the request. Fitzwilliam, looking from one to the other, stepped forward and took the woolen hat out of Crane's hands, and suggested that the young man would be more comfortable out of the gloves and parka. Crane must have reached a decision as he reached up and pulled the zipper down. After shucking it off, he handed it to Fitzwilliam who left, murmering something about holding dinner.

The two men stood staring at each other for a moment, before Nelson stepped forward and stood in front of Crane. The younger man's eyes were shuttered, and his posture spoke of a readiness to move, to leave. Hesitant, Nelson reached out and laid a hand on Crane's arm, and was gratified when Crane did not pull away. Despite the Arctic rated parka, he could feel the chill on Lee's sleeve, and he tugged gently toward the fire.

"Please come and sit down. You are obviously cold. How did you even manage to get here? I would have thought all the air traffic was grounded, and I certainly don't think the taxis are running." He asked as he led Crane to the second chair before the fire. Crane sat and waited until Nelson had done the same before he replied. His tone was cautious, as if he still wasn't sure of his reception.

"I caught a ride with one of the men on the plows. He was coming near here and he dropped me off a few blocks away."

"And how did you get to Boston?" Nelson leaned back in his chair, feeling something that had been taught inside him starting to loosen. He tried to keep his voice even and casual. He desperately didn't want Crane to leave.

"FS2" was the concise reply. Nelson threw a look at the window. The blizzard had not magically abated. He raised an eyebrow. He knew that Crane could do things with the small flying crafts that no one else could, but he would not have thought anyone could navigate and land in this storm. But then, he had no doubt that Crane had done exactly what he said. He nodded, noting that the younger man had not sat back in the chair, but instead was still perched on the edge. He was obviously not comfortable.

"I…"

"Do you..." They both started to speak at the same time, and stopped. Crane indicated that Nelson should go first. Nelson sat forward, closer to Crane, leaning toward him.

"I was meaning to ask if you planned to stay…for Christmas." He asked outright. Suddenly the answer meant a lot to him. Crane studied him for a moment.

"If it wasn't too much of an imposition. I can go to a hotel if you want." He finally said. Unspoken was an echo of their last conversation. Nelson was shaking his head before Crane finished the sentence.

"No, you'll stay here. I…"Nelson suddenly didn't know what to do, what to say, to heal the wound he had inflicted on the relationship between them. It occurred to him that as Crane had pointed out, Edith would have been deeply disappointed with him about his treatment of Lee Crane, about his treatment of all of his friends, these last months. Thinking of Edith made him realize where he needed to start.

"I'm sorry Lee…" he started only to stop as Crane started shaking his head.

"You have nothing to apologize to me for. It's I that should apologize. I had no right to say what I said. No one has a right to tell you how to grieve, or when it has been long enough." He said seriously. "If you really don't want me here, I understand."

"I won't argue with you about who needs to apologize to whom." Nelson said. "But I want you to stay here. I need…" He paused, wanting to say this correctly. "I need you to be here. When you came in I was trying to figure out how I could get back to the west coast." Once again their eyes met. Nelson continued.

"I was wrong, Lee, and you were right, all of you. I wasn't honoring Edith's memory by locking myself away and …brooding. I was indulging myself. Ignoring my…pain. But you have to understand Lee, I had no experience in dealing with a loss of this sort." He could see the puzzlement in the younger man's eyes.

"In reaching my age, I have of course lost a number of friends, some of them close friends, and a number of family members. However, none of their passing, even my mother's and father's impacted my life as Edith's did. My extended family was just that, extended. We saw each other occassionaly, on holidays. They were more acquaintences than family really. I was sorry when they died certainly, but it was detached. When I lost friends, even close ones, I always had my work, Edith, the Seaview…you. When my parents died in the plane crash, I had Edith. I was almost overwhelmed dealing with HER grief, and the understanding that I was now responsible for a child. I had no time to grieve for myself. But now…"

"But now it hurts like hell." Crane supplied into the silence. Nelson nodded.

"When I finally stopped. Stopped focusing on the guilt, stopped avoiding the fact that she was gone, it did hurt like hell; it still does. But it made me realize what I had been doing, how I had been pushing everyone away. I also realized that you were right, that I wasn't the only one that was missing her. And that made me think of all the good she had done, with her charities, with her life. Then there were so many other memories, good memories. Memories that I'll have forever, to remind me of how she was, of the loving, giving, beautiful person that she was."

"I'm glad Harry. She deserves to be remembered that way."

"Yes, yes she does." Nelson moved forward in his chair and put a hand on Crane's knee. " Lee, I want to thank you for coming here. I almost let my own…stubbornness rob us both of what this season truly is all about, rob us of what Edith held most dear. I want you to know, if you hadn't come, I would have found a way to make it back to Santa Barbara." He paused and looked toward the window then back at Crane.

"What I propose, if you agree, is that we get you warmed up, have dinner, then I would like it if we could sit down and…talk about _your_ memories of Edith, so that I can see her through your eyes, and if you don't mind, I would like to share with you some of _my_ memories. I think…I think that it would make me feel closer to her. Then tomorrow, the forecasters are saying that this storm is only going to last through early tomorrow morning and that after that it should be clear until Christmas day. If we leave after the storm passes we can be in Santa Barbara by the afternoon." He waited anxiously for Crane's reply.

"I think I would like that, talking about Edith that is. I'd like to hear about when she was a girl, before I knew you both. But…about going back to Santa Barbara, I thought you came here so that you could spend Christmas at home. We can stay here, there's no need to go back, it's not like Cookie is going to hold it against us if we are not there." He added the last with a grin, acknowledging how even the senior officers tiptoed around the cook's feelings. Nelson shook his head.

"Cookie may indeed not miss us, but I think I would miss him, and the crew, and the Seaview. It's something else that I have come to understand in the last day or so." He waved a hand around the room. "This isn't home, it hasn't been for many years, maybe not since my parents died. That was the last time that we were all together here. For a time wherever Edith and I were together, that was home. But now, and for quite some time now, even before Edith…passed, home has been on the Seaview, at the Institute." He paused and tightened his grip on Crane's knee. "But Lee, I want you to understand that even if we can't make it tomorrow, or if we do, that you've made sure that I WILL be home for Christmas. Because _you_ will be with me, wherever that may be."

Crane's eyes, which had been lowered as he listened to Nelson's speech flew up and met the older man's, and Nelson could see the surprise in the golden depths, along with a myriad of other emotions. Crane started to speak, then stopped. Finally he smiled and placed his hand over Nelson's giving it a squeeze.

"That's why I came, Harry. To spend Christmas at home." He said simply. They stared at each other a while longer, then as one, the two men slid back in their chairs and stretched their legs out toward the fire. As warm as the fire was, there was a warmth still greater in each one's heart, and regardless of what happened tomorrow, or where they were when Christmas came, that warmth would stay with them. Edith would have approved.

The End.


End file.
